Mind Games: The Obsession of Dr Lewis

Chapter 6

Nathan

She froze completely, and I could see the alarm on her face. Her breathing got faster, and the longer she lay there caught in that moment, the worse her terror got. When tears began to roll down the side of her face, she blinked, but it didn't stop them from gaining momentum.

“Big deep breaths, Daisy. In and out,” I said loud enough to startle her before I began to breathe in and out to demonstrate.

I knew she had been through several techniques to try and work through her emotions. A few of them were a while ago with another therapist.

“In,” I said, inhaling. “And out.”

I repeated this until I saw her trying to breathe through it.

“There's my good girl,” I said softly. “Keep breathing those big, deep breaths. In and out.”

I picked up the large Winnie the Pooh bear from under the bed and slipped it under her covers.

“We can pick this up tomorrow, Daisy, but I will expect you to continue,” I said firmly as I stood up to leave.

She looked smaller, with just her head poking out of the covers. The flow of tears had slowed down, but she was in an emotionally fragile state. My methods might seem brutal to her, but they were necessary, and I would use every dirty trick in the book.

I needed this to work but didn't want to damage her psyche. It had to be a complete transformation.

She needed to accept me as her Daddy.

◆◆◆

I set up my tablet and watched her while I reviewed her diary notes. She didn't move for almost an hour. When she saw the bear, she looked confused for a moment. She stared at the bear and its red T-shirt for a long time before she tucked it beside her pillow away from the camera and turned to her side. Her eyes didn't stay open for long, and she fell asleep with what seemed like a sigh. This was a promising start.

With the constant overthinking, stress, alcohol, mood swings, and potentially having two decades of this cycle, I expected her to eat and sleep more for a few days.

Her diary had a twelve-year gap. She stopped writing in it when she was fifteen, so I could only presume that she left home after that age. When I broke into her old home, there was no sign of her anywhere until I checked the garage and loft. There were plenty of photos and achievements around the house for their son, but it looked as if Daisy never existed. They made a concentrated effort to forget about her.

My fascination with how the brain works came from observing others, which led me to realise how much my thought process differed. I was completely detached and often feigned emotional reactions to fit in. In the comfort of my home, I could relax and be myself. With Daisy, I didn't want to hide my negative traits. I wanted her to witness my ugly side and accept it.

I picked the tablet up and studied Daisy’s sleeping face. I traced my finger over her face. She has such delicate features, and what was done to break her had several contributing factors. We all had our demons, and Daisy needed to learn how to confront them. Otherwise, they would continue to haunt her.

◆◆◆

I decided to make her a light but nutritious lunch: roasted pepper, garlic, and lentil soup with a slice of crusty bread. After she woke up, she was still a little bleary-eyed. When she looked up at me, her eyes were dull but cautious. I smiled when I saw the plush bear still by her side. Her cheeks flushed when she caught me looking at it.

“Did you have a nice nap?” I asked her, and when she nodded, I scowled at her.

I let her avoid proper responses before, but not now.

“The correct response is, ‘Yes, Daddy,” I said.

“Uh, yes, Daddy.”

“Sit up. Daddy is going to feed you,” I said as I sat down.

When she sat down, she held the covers up.

“Pull the covers down. Daddy wants to see your beautiful breasts while I feed you.”

She didn't move but tossed the covers off in an angry motion. I broke a piece of the bread and dipped it into the soup before presenting it to her. She opened her mouth, and her lips brushed off my fingers, causing her to become flustered.

“When was the last time you fucked a man, Daisy?” I asked as I brushed my thumb along her lower lip.

She looked away from me towards the windows.

“Maybe around five or six years ago,” she said flatly.

“Do you remember your rules?”

“Uh, yes. Sorry, Daddy.”

“Why so long ago?” I asked as I fed her some more bread and waited until she had swallowed it.

“I didn't like it, Daddy,” she said but still wouldn't look at me.

“But you cum when you finger yourself, don't you?” I said as I lifted the spoon.

Her wide eyes snapped towards me before she frowned. “Yes…Daddy,” she said, catching herself this time.

I fed her some soup for a few minutes and picked up the remaining bread.

“I think you would cum for your Daddy because if you didn't, I would do terrible things to you,” I said with a smirk. “Daddy knows how you need to be fucked. Daddy knows everything about you.”

Her cheeks turned pink, and she looked away from me. Her breathing turned choppy, and her rose-tipped breasts began to rise and fall. It was arousal this time and not panic.

“I bet if I touched your pretty little hole, it would be wet right now, wouldn't it, Daisy?” I whispered as I fed her the bread.

Shame kept many people from enjoying their most basic functions. Be it past experiences, a gaslighting partner or perhaps religion.

“Why are you doing this to me…Daddy?” she whispered so quietly that I could barely hear her.

“You would've been arrested eventually for your anger outbursts. You're an alcoholic. You cannot get your shit together and have refused the numerous occasions where people have tried to help you. That behaviour is no longer an option in my basement,” I said as I observed the expressions flitting across her face.

She clenched the covers between her hands but didn't deny anything I said.

“You would have met an early death. Now your life is in your Daddy’s hands,” I said softly, watching her fear take over. “Remember your rules, and you have nothing to worry about.”

It was clear to me she wanted to live and hadn't got to the utterly hopeless stage in her life. She had all the signs of death by addiction or suicide. Without a support system, it would only have been a matter of time.